


Heart to Heart

by sopenation



Series: Semishira Week 2020 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Psych you thought i wouldn't write more cherry blossoms, SEMI IN A BANDANA, Semi is hopeless, SemiShira Week 2020, but I did, but not really, shirabu is too cute and semi suffers, thats it thats the tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopenation/pseuds/sopenation
Summary: His breath catches when the afternoon sun proceeds to bathe the object of his affections in a warm glow, dusting him in a golden hue and Semi wonders, vaguely, if he had saved the world in his past life to be given the privilege of admiring this work of art up close.Or, Shirabu is a closet softie and (unknowingly) the main reason behind Semi’s descent into love-struck insanity.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou, implied kawashiki, implied ushiten - Relationship
Series: Semishira Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017882
Comments: 30
Kudos: 223
Collections: Semishira Week 2020





	Heart to Heart

**Author's Note:**

> *insert heart attack meme* yeah semi's dead you guys

███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 10%

His eyes keep getting drawn back to that damn sweater.

It’s not even an _ugly_ sweater _(_ He would know, he has plenty of them). It’s actually a nice light pink and judging by the slightly worn out fabric, well-loved. He’s tempted to just reach over and touch it, confirm his beliefs that it’s really as soft as it looks.

It’s just a sweater, really. An ordinary, comfy-looking sweater. No reason for Semi to freak out internally about it, nope, no reason at all.

Except, the boy of his dreams was sitting across from him in said sweater, looking unfairly beautiful underneath the café’s golden lights.

Shirabu tucks a stray copper strand behind his ear, oblivious to Semi’s gaze on him. His sweater _(the bane of Semi’s existence)_ hung loosely on his thin frame, highlighting his collarbone and showing off an expanse of smooth, creamy skin (Semi’s eyes lingered there a little longer than he liked to admit). The glasses perched atop his nose were starting to slip off but he didn’t acknowledge them, continuing to make meticulous notes in his perfect handwriting.

Is it weird for Semi to want to be the paper he’s writing on?

When he does finally lift a hand to adjust his glasses, Semi’s throat goes dry.

Shirabu has _sweater paws._

Shirabu Kenjirou, Shiratorizawa’s resident salt shaker and tsundere extraordinaire, wears baggy sweaters that give him sweater paws, gold rimmed glasses, drinks obnoxiously sweet coffee _and_ uses pastel highlighters for his notes.

Semi thinks he feels a heart attack coming on.

The rest of the team, blissfully unaware of Semi’s current predicament, continue on with their ‘group study session’. Okay, so only Shirabu and Reon were actually studying. Semi had ditched his work the minute Shirabu sat across from him in that sweater.

His breath catches when the afternoon sun proceeds to bathe the object of his affections in a warm glow, dusting him in a golden hue and Semi wonders, vaguely, if he had saved the world in his past life to be given the privilege of admiring this work of art up close.

“Semi-san.”

Shirabu’s voice sends shockwaves up Semi’s spine, causing his knee to bump against the table a little too harshly, nearly sending their coffees crashing to the floor.

“What is up with you today?” Shirabu grumbles under his breath, steadying his own coffee.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Semi squawks indignantly, hating how just Shirabu’s presence alone was enough to strip him of his last remaining braincells.

The second year rolls his eyes. “It means you haven’t touched a single thing the entire time we’ve been here.” He gestures to the unopened books on Semi’s side of the table. “All you’ve done was stare off into space. And your cheeks are red.”

There’s a pause.

“Do you have a fever?”

_“No!”_ Semi splutters, embarrassed at having been caught staring, even if Shirabu didn’t know it was at him _._ “I’m perfectly fine!”

“Well, if you’re _‘perfectly fine’_ ,” Shirabu says, making air quotations around the words. Semi hates himself for finding it adorable. “then you should get your ass back to studying.”

Semi gapes at him, before burying his face into his hands and muttering shamefully.

“I… can’t concentrate.” _Because of you, asshole._

“You have to. We can’t let you get kicked out of the team just because you’re failing.”

Semi peeks out from behind his fingers, hope building in his chest. Was… Shirabu actually worried about him?

“Who’s going to warm the bench?”

Ah.

“Brat.” Semi laughs, and Shirabu even cracks a small smile.

He leans over to ruffle his hair, heart soaring when the younger pouts, causing his cheeks to puff out.

Somehow, Shirabu looked even more endearing with dishevelled hair, his glasses nearly slipping off his face as he tries (unsuccessfully) to tame it.

Finally opening up his textbook, Semi shoots him a sly smirk. “Don’t think I’m going to be warming that bench forever.”

Shirabu pauses in his movements, his voice cool as he replies. “We’ll see about that, Semi-san.”

They exchange knowing grins, and Semi spends the rest of his time thinking about sweater paws and copper hair shining under the sunlight instead of quadratic formulas.

Seconds fade to minutes, and the minutes turn into hours. Surprisingly, he manages to make progress on his work, courtesy of Reon being a literal saint.

He yawns, leaning back in his chair to see how his teammates were faring. Tendou, predictably, had given up a long time ago, his head now pillowed comfortably on Ushijima’s shoulder as they read a copy of Shounen Jump together.

“Wakatoshi-kun, can you turn the page already?”

“I’m still reading ‘Sensitive Baby Wipes: Gentle Protection for Your Baby’.”

“You don’t _have_ a baby, Wakatoshi-kun.”

Tendou sighs dramatically, nuzzling further into the boy besides him. “When will you read the actual manga instead of the adverts?”

Semi bites back a laugh, knowing full well that Tendou wasn’t actually annoyed.

He looks over to see Yamagata sleeping beside them, a textbook sprawled on top of his face as he snored quietly. Semi makes sure to take about a dozen pictures for future blackmail purposes.

Reon shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping him.

Resting his chin on his hand thoughtfully, Semi looks over to see Kawanishi and Goshiki lost in their own little world.

There’s a Nintendo Switch lying on the table, presumably abandoned by Kawanishi the minute Goshiki came to him with puppy eyes and unfinished homework. Semi watched in fascination as their blank-faced middle blocker explained topics in a gentle tone, one he usually reserved for Goshiki.

Unbeknownst to him, the first year wasn’t actually listening to a word he said. Instead, Goshiki was staring at him like he singlehandedly hung the moon and stars, a lovestruck expression so painfully obvious to everyone around them except the very recipient himself.

Kawanishi lifts his head up, one eyebrow raised when he catches Goshiki staring.

“… and that’s how you calculate gravitational acceleration. Do you understand now?”

Goshiki hangs his head, mumbling a soft “no”.

Kawanishi’s eyes soften. “Let’s try again, okay?”

The first year nods furiously, ears red as he leaned closer to watch Kawanishi work, a soft smile spreading across the redhead’s face.

“Gross.”

Semi blinks, dragging his eyes away from them to see Shirabu with a disgusted expression.

“What is?”

“Them.” Shirabu deadpans. “I can’t stand their flirting.”

Semi looks over at the two of them, shoulders brushing and hushed voices. He can’t help the small smile that crosses his face. “I think it’s cute.”

Shirabu pointedly looks away.

This piques his curiosity. He leans in closer, a shit-eating grin adorning his face. “Why so salty, Shirabu?”

“I am _not_ salty.”

Semi smirks. “Never been in love?”

Shirabu stares at him likes he’s gone crazy. “ _What_ _—_ What type of question is that?”

Semi shrugs, feigning nonchalance despite his pounding heart. Shirabu is flushed a pretty shade of red and boy was it doing wonders in fuelling Semi’s inevitable heart attack.

The second year purses his lips, mulling the question over. Semi not-so-subtly stares at them.

“I am _—have_! I, I have been in love,” Shirabu corrects quickly, coughing into his hand. “Now shut the fuck up.”

Semi doesn’t miss the slip-up.

“With who?” _Not Wakatoshi, not Wakatoshi, please not—_

Instead of answering, Shirabu downs his coffee in one go.

When he ~~places~~ slams his empty cup down, it’s to a steady flow of curses streaming from his scalded tongue. Semi sighs, about to lecture him on the consequences of drinking hot coffee too quickly before he sees it.

_It_ being the foam moustache decorating Shirabu’s upper lip.

Semi’s brain short-circuits. He knows, oh he _knows_ , that he definitely looks like an idiot right now, staring unabashedly at his kouhai’s lips with his mouth open, but Shirabu doesn’t seem to notice, too busy cursing every single barista that had the misfortune to walk the earth.

Semi wants to shut him up, preferably with his lips.

He does _not_ do that (because A, Shirabu would kill him and B, Shirabu would kill him), so he does the next best thing, which in itself is a pretty effective way of shutting him up.

His body moves on his own. Leaning forward, he reaches a hand out to gently swipe away the foam, his thumb lingering on Shirabu’s lips a few seconds too long before he pulls away.

Wiping his hand off with a napkin, he goes back to studying like nothing happened.

After a drawn-out moment of silence, he finally looks up.

Shirabu is _frozen_. His eyes blown wide as he slowly lifts a shaky hand to his lips.

Semi blinks, taking in the flush creeping up his kouhai’s face with increasing confusion before the long overdue realisation hits him like a dump truck.

_“Oh my god I am so sorry there was just foam I swear—"_

An eraser gets chucked at him.

He catches it out of reflex (because setter, you know?) and shoots him a sheepish smile.

Shirabu just huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. His red cheeks are even more prominent now, whether from embarrassment or anger, Semi couldn’t tell.

“Whatever. Go back to studying, you useless senpai.”

_“Hey!”_

Shirabu ducks his head, trying to hide his smile. His sweater paws make a reappearance when he brings a hand up to his face and Semi internally combusts.

It’s a goddamn miracle he’s still alive by the end of the day.

██████▒▒▒▒▒▒ 30%

Semi just wanted to buy kneepads.

This does not explain why he’s currently rifling through a bin stocked full of bandanas in Daiso at nine in the morning while still in his sweatpants.

(He was on his way to the sports store when he saw the huge ‘Flash Sale on Bandanas! Buy 3 Free 1!’ sign and decided the kneepads could wait, okay?)

Still, this does not explain why he needed so many bandanas.

No, it’s _not_ because Tendou once said he looked like a K-pop idol wearing it. (Though that _was_ a huge ego boost.)

And it definitely is _not_ because Shirabu seems to have a thing for him in a bandana, oh no. (Shirabu had turned red when he showed up once to practice in a bandana, and was benched promptly after receiving multiple balls to the face when he should have been watching the ball and, you know, not Semi.)

He just thinks bandanas are neat.

He’s picked out three already _—_ a constellation print, a rainbow print and a skull print _—_ and is torn between like a hundred other options for his last one.

_There are corgis on that one, oh my god. Wait, are those fucking aliens how am I supposed to choose now—_

He’s still having an existential crisis over bandanas when angry muttering from the next aisle over successfully snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Stupid, _shitty_ Daiso and their stupid, _shitty_ shelves _—"_

Semi’s ears perk up, a smile worming its way onto his face. There’s only one person he knows who could be cursing in Daiso at nine in the morning.

Peering around the corner, he’s met with Shirabu swallowed up in an oversized yellow hoodie, an _adorable_ pout on his face as he stands on his tiptoes, fingertips not quite reaching the top shelf.

Semi thinks he feels that heart attack coming on.

_This is your chance, Eita. Be his knight in shining armour._

Shirabu’s breath hitches when he strides up from behind, stretching to pluck the item off the shelf with ease.

Turning to face him, he holds out the item _—_ a pack of face masks, it turns out _—_ in front of Shirabu, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Looking for this, sweetheart?”

Shirabu flushes a dark shade of red that, oddly, compliments his hoodie.

“Fuck off. And _don’t_ call me that.”

“Then do you prefer I call you shorty instead?” Semi teases.

Shirabu bristles. “I am _not_ short.” He makes a grab for the face masks, but Semi dangles it out of his reach. “Just vertically challenged _now_ _will you give it back—"_

“What’s the magic word _—ow!”_ Semi yelps, dropping the masks to rub at his bruised knee. He stares incredulously at Shirabu.

“Did you just _kick_ me?”

“You deserve it.” Shirabu huffs, clutching the face masks to his chest like it’s his baby and eyeing Semi warily.

“Still going through your emo phase?”

Semi blinks. “Huh?”

“Your bandanas, idiot.”

“Oh.” He forgot that he was still holding onto them. “Cool, right? They’re having a sale.”

Shirabu scoffs. “You have the fashion sense of a middle schooler.”

“But you like my bandanas, don’t you?” Semi nudges him lightly. “You couldn’t stop staring at me last time _—”_

“Shut up!” Shirabu snaps, the tips of his ears growing red. “I was just staring because I couldn’t believe how _ugly_ they fucking were.”

Somehow, Semi has a feeling he’s lying.

“Whatever you say.” He shrugs. An idea pops into his head. “Hey, you wanna help me pick out another one?”

Shirabu looks mildly offended. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Because if I hadn’t showed up you would still be struggling to reach the top shelf.”

“ _Fuck off_.” A pause. “Where’s your stupid bandana?”

Cue Semi spending the rest of his morning rifling through bandanas with his crush. A dream date, really. They poke fun at each other’s choices, and Semi quickly learns at his own expense that Shirabu does _not_ mince words when he disapproves of something. (In this case, his disastrous fashion sense.) Still, when he sees Shirabu’s eyes light up at the corgi bandana, Semi knows then and there which one he’s buying.

Like the annoying senpai he is, he doesn’t let the opportunity to get Shirabu his own bandana pass by, choosing a matching rainbow one for him.

“We’re _homie_ -sexuals now—"

Shirabu kicks him in the other knee.

“So… face masks?”

_Wow, great conversation starter, Eita. Ten outta ten._

They’re in the checkout line when Semi finally gets a good look at what he’s holding. He catches the words ‘luminous dewy skin’ and ‘detoxifying hydration’ and a bunch of other pretentious bullshit he can’t wrap his head around.

Shirabu raises an unimpressed brow, as if to say _and what about it?_

Semi chuckles. “Nothing. Just never pegged you as the type.”

Brown eyes flicker from his armful of bandanas and back to his face with thinly-veiled disdain.

“ _You_ , of all people, are judging _me_?”

He raises his hands up in defence, putting on his most innocent expression. “Not judging. Just… pleasantly surprised.”

And he is. Thoughts of Shirabu delicately putting on a face mask while still in pyjamas flood his mind, and Semi feels his heart grow fonder.

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “I take care of my skin, how is that surprising?”

Semi thinks about it for a minute, before shrugging. “I guess it isn’t. I’ve just never really bothered with skincare routines.”

“I can tell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

He regrets asking almost immediately, nearly crumpling under the force of Shirabu’s glare. “I’m _saying_ , your skin is way too dry. If you even had the most basic skincare knowledge, which I doubt you do, given you only use your brain when it involves volleyball—”

“Rude.”

“—You would _know_ to moisturise daily. Learn to take care of your skin, dumbass senpai.”

“I came here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

Shirabu wrinkles his nose. “You came to Daiso for a good time?”

“Who’s judging who now?”

Shirabu rolls his eyes again.

“You know,” Semi starts, fiddling with his bandanas. “I never really thought about you having a skincare routine.”

“Do you ever think?”

Choosing to ignore his remark, Semi continues. “Like, you’re so pretty that I just assumed your skin was naturally pretty too.”

The customer in front of him is already at the cashier, and Semi moves up the line to take his place. When he turns around, Shirabu is staring at him with wide eyes, a faint pink dusting his cheeks before he looks away quickly, mumbling something under his breath.

Semi tilts his head, confused.

“… I said, you can come by my room sometime. If—If you wanna try the face masks.” Shirabu mumbles, still avoiding his eyes. “I’ll kick Taichi out.”

_Oh_.

Semi swallows, heart fluttering at the prospect of spending time alone with Shirabu in his room.

He opens his mouth to say something, throat feeling dry all of a sudden, but—

“Semi-san, the _line_.”

He closes his mouth, hastily moving up the line to place his bandanas on the counter. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches for Shirabu’s things to put together with his own.

“Hey—"

Semi smiles at him. “Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

He fails to notice Shirabu’s deepening blush.

It’s only when they’re walking out of the store, shopping bags in hand, that Semi finally plucks up the courage to ask.

“Do you,” He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck in a move that _screams_ awkwardness. “maybe want to grab something to eat?”

He hears a sharp intake of breath before Shirabu stops walking completely, his cheeks flushed.

“I’d love to, but I have a project I need to work on.”

Semi nods in understanding, trying not to let his disappointment show. He’s pretty sure Shirabu sees through him anyway.

“But,” Shirabu steps forward, nudging his shoulder gently. “You can take me out some other time.”

With one last smile, he walks away, leaving Semi to ponder the implications behind those words.

The image of Shirabu’s smile carves itself into his brain, and Semi finds himself failing spectacularly to keep a straight face on his way back, thoughts of soft smiles and skincare routines replaying repeatedly in his head.

It’s only when he gets home that he realises he forgot to buy the kneepads.

_[He walks into practice the next day in his corgi bandana and all hell breaks loose. His team proceeds to then destroy Shirabu’s in a satisfying 4-1 match and Shirabu ends up getting lectured by coach for ‘being too distracted’. Semi hides his smile behind his water bottle.]_

███████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%

Of all things, he does _not_ expect to encounter a heart attack while running.

Yes, he knows too much exertion does significantly increase the risk of a sudden cardiac arrest, but Semi is a responsible runner. He never pushes himself to the extreme unlike ~~Ushijima~~ _some people_ , takes regular breaks and drinks plenty of water.

See, there was zero chance of him getting into an exercise-related incident as long as he kept those things in mind, and he did.

What he _didn’t_ account for, was a heart attack that came in the form of a text Kawanishi sends him.

He’d just finished his usual route and was leaning against a tree to catch his breath, taking sips from his bottle when he hears the notification.

Digging out his phone from his pocket, he opens their chat.

**Taichi**

_thought you might like this_

**Taichi**

_[picture: Shirabu bundled up in a thick coat, an overflowing scarf wrapped around his neck. There are strawberry earmuffs on top of his head. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and he’s glaring at the camera, clearly annoyed.]_

_✔️ seen 5:55pm_

Semi spits his water out.

Clutching his heart, he slides down the side of the tree and promptly collapses to the ground. He takes one more look at the picture before burying his face into his hands and letting out a long, muffled scream.

_Fuck you, Shirabu Kenjirou. Fuck you and your shitty haircut and pretty face and your stupid, stupid fashion sense. Fuck you for making me feel this way fuck you_ —

He’ll never be able to look at strawberries the same way again.

**Taichi**

_lol are you dead_

✔️ _seen 6:07pm_

████████▒▒▒▒ 70%

Semi’s pretty sure he’s in heaven.

That’s the only possible explanation he can think of when faced with the blessing he’s been undeservingly bestowed with.

He looks up to the sky, wiping a fake tear from his eye and whispering softly. “God? Is this your answer to my prayers?”

No one answers. It’s fine, he wasn’t really that religious in the first place.

Nevertheless, the sight in front of him was more than enough proof to convince him that angels do, in fact, exist.

He’d gone on his usual run (not before blocking Kawanishi’s contact because he did _not_ want a repeat of last time), when he decided to take a detour into the schoolyard, happening upon a secluded area by chance.

The sight before him took his breath away.

Swirls of red and orange painted the sky, and the cherry blossom trees —now in full bloom— stood proud against the sunset canvas as soft hues blanketed the ground, its pink petals dancing along with the breeze. The kind of scenery that would make artists drop everything and rush for their paintbrushes, if only to immortalise it forever in a painting.

Semi wasn’t like those artists.

The sunset was gorgeous, yes, but he’s seen plenty in his lifetime, each their own varying degrees of beauty. Come March, when cherry blossoms tinted in springtime colours peeked out to greet the world, Semi still remained as captivated as ever, though the initial feelings of wonder had long since worn off.

Instead, he found something far more mesmerising than any sunset or flower, materialising itself in the form of a boy who, at first glance, was easy to miss. And yet as soon as Semi laid eyes on him, he found it impossible to look away.

Shirabu glowed underneath the sunlight. He looked more at peace than Semi’s ever seen him, his sharp features taking on a softer, more youthful look. Pink petals drifted down from the tree he was leaning against, cushioning themselves on copper-coloured hair. A floral halo for a real life angel.

There’s a hint of a smile playing on Shirabu’s lips as he watches the sun sink below the horizon, a child-like wonder in his eyes as he sees the cherry blossoms falling into place. 

A stray petal lands on Shirabu’s open palm, and twirling it gently in his hand, Shirabu delicately tucks it behind his ear, lips curving into a gentle smile.

Semi feels himself ascending to heaven.

He’s tempted to take a picture, but deep down, he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to forget this.

_This_ being the colours dancing across Shirabu’s face, brushstrokes of golds and reds and oranges.

_This_ being the cherry blossoms falling, one, two, before drifting gently with the breeze and onto copper hair.

_This_ being the gorgeous smile that still hasn’t left Shirabu’s face as he continues to watch the sunset.

Semi wanted to be the cause of that smile.

It might not happen right away, or even in a hundred years, but he was willing to wait. He would give the whole world in return for that one smile.

For now, he settles for leaning against a tree, heart warm as he gazes longingly at the boy who stole his heart and thinks, _I know which scenery I would rather paint._

When the moon shines bright and stars dot the sky, Semi walks back to the dorms, each step heavy with a newfound love for sunsets and cherry blossoms and a boy born in springtime.

█████████████▒ 99%

The door creaks open just as he’s finishing tuning his guitar.

He doesn’t bother looking up, thinking its probably Tendou coming back to grab some of his things before heading back to Ushijima’s to do god knows what.

“You play?”

Which is why he nearly falls off his bed, caught off guard when he hears Shirabu’s quiet voice instead of Tendou’s shrill one.

Semi whips his head up, mouth falling open at the sight of Shirabu standing in front of his bed, a curious expression hiding behind his glasses.

“What— What are _you_ doing in my room?”

“I feel so welcome, Semi-san.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Semi flushes. He still hasn’t fully recovered from seeing smiley Shirabu under the cherry blossoms the other day, much less enough to handle being in the same room— _his_ bedroom— as him.

“You—You can’t just _sneak_ in here!”

Shirabu’s face pinches at the accusation. “Tendou-san said I could come in.”

“ _He said what now_.”

Shirabu huffs, walking straight to their shared table like he owns the place and picks up a roll of tape.

“He stole my tape the other day. I’m just here to get it back.”

“Probably another one of his stupid pranks.” Semi mutters under his breath.

Shirabu just shrugs, walking over to plop himself on Semi’s bed.

Semi stares as Shirabu proceeds to busy himself by thumbing through his music sheets, seemingly without a care in the world. He wishes he could say the same for himself, but his erratic heartbeat says otherwise.

“Uh.”

“How long have you been playing?” Shirabu murmurs, not looking up from the music sheets. He looked like he was searching intently for something.

“Since.. middle school I think?” Semi scratches the back of his neck, still unsure of where the conversation was heading.

Shirabu just nods.

They’re quiet for some time, the lull of rain and guitar chords the only background noise accompanying them. He’s just beginning to relax before Shirabu opens his mouth again.

The next request he makes is soft, and Semi might have missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to everything the second year does.

“Can you… play something for me?”

Semi stills, fingers ghosting over guitar strings.

Shirabu ducks his head, clearly embarrassed. “You don’t have to. If you don’t want, I mean, I — just forget it—”

“I want to.”

A teasing grin spreads across his face when Shirabu looks up at him, shell-shocked. The pink on his cheeks matches his sweater’s.

He hums, nodding towards the music sheets still in Shirabu’s hands. “Any requests?”

Wordlessly, Shirabu passes a sheet over to him.

He raises an eyebrow when he reads the title. It’s a classic, but not a song he would’ve expected from Shirabu.

“Feeling sentimental, aren’t we?”

Shirabu scoffs. “Shut up and play, _senpai_.”

Semi clicks his tongue, muttering a ‘ _rude’_ under his breath before playing the first few notes.

He closes his eyes, losing himself to the familiar tune. The first verse is coming up, and he’s preparing to sing before another voice beats him to it.

_/There are places I’ll remember_

_All my life, though some have changed/_

Brown eyes fly open just in time to see the words leave Shirabu’s mouth. The younger isn’t looking at him, a small blush painting his cheeks.

_/Some forever, not for better_

_Some have gone and some remain/_

Why has Shirabu never joined them for their team karaoke nights? Semi mourns the loss of all the time wasted when he could have been listening to _this_.

_/All these places had their moments_

_With lovers and friends I still can recall/_

Shirabu’s voice was _gorgeous_. It reminded him of honey, warm and full of comfort and something Semi just couldn’t get enough of.

_/Some are dead, and some are living_

_In my life, I’ve loved them all/_

Shirabu sucks in a shaky breath, eyes flickering to Semi when he begins the next verse.

_/But of all these friends and lovers_

_There is no one who compares with you/_

Something in Shirabu’s voice catches his attention and suddenly the whole mood shifts. Maybe it’s because of how raw and earnest it is, maybe it’s because he feels his heart leap into his throat and his palms starting to sweat or maybe, _maybe_ it’s because Shirabu is fully looking at him now.

_/And_ _these_ _memories lose_ _their_ _meaning_

_When I_ _think_ _of love as_ _something_ _ne_ _w/_

Semi doesn’t look away. He can’t, not when Shirabu is looking back at him, unspoken truths and feelings that have never seen the light of day hiding away behind those copper eyes. 

_/Though I know I'll_ _never_ _lose affection_

_For_ _people_ _and_ _things_ _that went before/_

Belatedly, Semi realises what the next verse is. Judging by his trembling fingers, Shirabu does too.

_/I know I'll_ _often_ _stop and_ _think_ _about them_

_In my life, I love you more/_

The music slows down. Shirabu takes a deep breath.

_/In my life, I love you most /_

Shirabu’s breath hitches around the last words. He’s done it, he’s laid his heart bare for Semi to see. It’s clear as day when he watches Semi closely, watery eyes searching his face, that he’s waiting, hoping for acceptance.

And Semi— Semi has an epiphany.

It’s one he’s had multiple times, hell, he’s had it four times just this week, but its an epiphany nonetheless.

He’s in love, and not just with anyone.

He’s in love, with the kouhai who disrespected him the very first day they met.

He’s in love, with the setter who stole his position and worked hard every day to prove he was worthy.

He’s in love, with the boy who sat across from him in that pink sweater.

He’s in love, with the dork who laughs at his pick up lines and wears animal face masks.

He’s in love, with the angel who watched the sunset with wonder in his eyes, not knowing that his smile put even the fucking sun to shame.

He’s truly, madly, helplessly in love with Shirabu Kenjirou.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, the threshold separating them had grown fainter and fainter, with each passing smile and accidental touch catalysing its downfall, leaving Semi on the edge of no return.

All he has to do now is tiptoe across the edge, where he knows Shirabu will be waiting for him.

And so he does.

“I want to kiss you.”

“…”

_That.. Is not what I meant to say._

Okay, so he might have… hurled himself across the edge instead of tiptoeing like he planned to. But screw plans, he was an impatient man, especially when everything he’d ever wanted was _right there_ in front of him.

“Semi-san?” Shirabu’s voice comes out small, like he still can’t believe what he just heard. “W—What did you say?”

Semi averts his gaze, hands tightening around his guitar. He didn’t read that wrong, right? Fuck, that would be embarrassing, even more so than that time he cosplayed as Sailor Moon after losing that bet with Tendou.

He shuddered, subconsciously filing that memory away into the deep, dark pits of hell.

Shirabu is still looking at him expectantly. Semi takes a deep breath, steeling himself. No turning back now.

“Can I kiss you?”

He shuts his eyes, bracing himself for rejection or maybe even a slap to the face. Instead, he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders.

_Holy shit, he’s going to push me off the bed_ —

“Ow!” He yelps suddenly, hands flying up to his eye at the unexpected pain. He hears the bed sheets rustling, and suddenly Shirabu’s scrambling next to him, a mix of embarrassment and worry on his face.

“Fuck, Semi-san, I’m so so sorry shit—” He’s rambling now, and normally Semi would find it endearing if his eye didn’t hurt _so fucking much—_

“What were you even trying to do?”

“I—I was,” Shirabu stills, eyes blown wide and the epitome of a blushing mess.

Semi gives him a questioning look. Well, as much as one could when they could barely even open their eye.

“Trying to do what you wanted!”

Semi stares even longer.

As if he wasn’t _already_ in pain, Shirabu goes ahead and smacks him on the chest, ignoring his “ _hey_!” to bury his head in his chest.

Semi goes stock-still. Hell, he’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing. It’s a miracle he hasn’t combusted yet when _the_ Shirabu Kenjirou was currently lying on _his_ chest, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

“I was…” Even with how close they were, Semi still has to strain his ears to hear him. “… trying to kiss you.”

_I’m sorry what—_

There is _no_ damn way Shirabu doesn’t notice his heart speeding up, not when it’s taking every last bit of Semi’s willpower to refrain himself from engulfing Shirabu in a bear hug and kissing the living daylights out of him.

Even if he does notice, Shirabu continues, voice muffled from where he was taking refuge in Semi’s chest. “… but my glasses…”

That last part comes out timid, embarrassed and Semi’s never been the brightest but the cogs in his brain are turning faster now then during _literally_ any test he’s ever had in his pathetic life.

To say he’s got it bad would be an understatement.

He racks his brain, trying to figure out what he means given Shirabu wasn’t really providing any input, still plopped on top of his chest and seemingly content to stay where he was, glasses squished awkwardly against his face.

Something clicks in his head.

“I can’t believe your _—holy shit—_ stupid glasses got in the way.” He wheezes, laughing harder when Shirabu turns a fierce shade of red.

“It’s _not_ funny.” He whines, hitting him again half-heartedly, the heat on his face betraying his embarrassment. “And my glasses are _not_ stupid.”

Semi snickers, a crooked grin prominent on his face as he pinches Shirabu’s (red) cheeks. He’d been wanting to do that for some time now.

“Whatever you say, _Kenjirou_.”

Using his first name has its desired effect. Shirabu gapes at him, stopping his assault long enough for Semi to gently remove his glasses.

Now that the glasses aren’t framing his face, he’s free to stare like he’s always wanted. He takes his time, drinking in every little detail and burning every inch of Shirabu’s face into his memory until he’s sure he could never forget it even if he tried.

Semi’s heart melts a little when Shirabu shyly avert his gaze, the tell-tale signs of embarrassment showing up. He smiles, cupping his cheeks and caressing them lovingly.

“ _Kenjirou_ ,” He whispers, not missing the shiver that runs through Shirabu as soon as his name leaves his lips. “can we try again?”

A sharp intake of breath.

“I want to.”

A shaky inhale.

“ _Eita_.” Is the last thing Shirabu manages to get out before his lips are captured in a longing kiss.

His sigh turns into a moan when Semi moves to deepen the kiss, hands tightening around his waist and pulling him close, flush. Shirabu gasps when the third year nips at his bottom lip, before sliding his tongue into his pliant mouth.

_This must be what heaven feels like_ , Semi thinks before they’re forced to break apart because unfortunately, they actually need to breathe.

Shirabu’s breathless, a little dazed from his first kiss and somehow still grinning like a little shit.

“Took you long enough, Semi-san.”

“Oh, I’m back to being Semi-san now?” Semi pouts childishly. “I hope you don’t kiss all your seniors like that, Shirabu.”

Shirabu snorts, comfortable from where he’s still straddling Semi’s lap. And by the looks of it, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

“I don’t just go around serenading everyone I meet.”

“So that’s what it was? A serenade?” Semi hums.

Shirabu fixes him with a pointed look, a stark contrast to the shy boy he had kissed just minutes ago.

“What else could it be?”

“That wasn’t even a love song.”

“It’s the thought that matters!”

Semi grins. “So you admit you love me?”

“I _—What—_ D-Did you not hear a thing I said _?”_ Shirabu splutters. “ _Yes_ , dumbass senpai.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re supposed to say it back.”

“It back.”

_“Semi-san I swear to god—"_

He catches the pillow Shirabu lobs at him, narrowly missing his face. The near-death experience still does shit to wipe the smug smile off his face though.

“Have I ever mentioned I have a thing for sweater paws?” He starts conversationally, toying with the hem of Shirabu’s sweater.

The aforementioned boy just knits his brows. “Uh, no?”

“I’ve started buying more facemasks too. Turns out this whole skincare shit is pretty fucking cool.”

Shirabu’s eye twitches.

Semi reaches to brush a stray strand of hair away from his face. “And I’m beginning to appreciate sunsets more. And cherry blossoms. I still think they’re overrated though.”

“Semi-san.” Shirabu cuts in. “What’s your point?”

Semi just smiles, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “My point is, all of these have one thing in common.” Lips lingering, he continues. “And it all comes back to you.”

A confused noise leaves Shirabu.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Semi chuckles, unable to stop the warmth and affection that seeps into his voice.

“I love you too, brat.”

████████████████████ 1000%

**Author's Note:**

> A moment of silence for Semi Eita 😔🤚.killed by Shirabu Kenjirou's cuteness. *sniffs* gone too soon. His final wish was for Tendou to lay him into his grave so he could let him down one last time. 
> 
> The song is In My Life by the Beatles by the way! (I listened to the Glee version writing this) 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated and let me know what you guys think! another fic is coming tomorrow, so look out for it ;)


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